Castle In The Clouds, Chapters 37 & 38 (standard:drama, 2982 words) [18/21] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Oct 16 2010	Views/Reads: 2407/1836	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Llewellyn is losing touch with sanity, but the effects spread well beyond him. Continuation of my drama.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


Veronica shook her head despairingly. 'Thomas, this is hardly an
appropriate time -' 

'Veronica!' She heard the call from behind, it made her breath catch in
her throat. 'Stay away from him - I beg you, he will kill you!' 

'No - no he won't.' Damn! Veronica kept her eyes on Llewellyn, his face
had so little movement and colour it might have been plaster, but it 
had exuded a kind of doughy pleasure and she'd thought she'd managed to 
pacify him. 

Now the stony look of non-comprehension was back in his eyes as he
stared past her towards the onrushing Rothman. 

‘Byron!  No!  Stop!' Veronica held out an arm, refusing to yield ground,
it might have been the unaccustomed use of his first name, but 
nonetheless it brought Rothman to a halt. 

'What is he doing here?' Llewellyn hissed through his half-open mouth. 

'He came back to help,' Veronica said quickly, the barest of backward
glances at Rothman. 

'Veronica, I -' 

Waving down Rothman and now within striking distance of his blade,
Veronica said to Llewellyn, 'I must speak to Mr. Rothman alone - he 
needs to understand -' 

'Understand, Veronica?' 

'That you need taking care of,' she said resolutely, 'and that it is my
desire to see to it.' 

'Veronica -' Rothman protested, 'what kind of lunacy is this?' 

'Please, Thomas, one moment and I shall return -' 

'And together we return to the castle?' 

Veronica hung her head, 'Yes.' 

'Very well, one moment.' But Llewellyn's grasp on the sabre was as
intense as ever as he stood hunched, rainwater and froth oozing from 
his mouth. 

Veronica hurried Rothman to the vicarage entrance, ushered him inside
and closed the door as Llewellyn's dark shape hovered outside. 

'You cannot contemplate going with him; you will not return -' 

Veronica sighed, placed her hands on Rothman's shoulders. 'He is quite
insane, but at least I have pacified him and he will do me no harm. You 
have come this far, do not ensure further bloodshed now, I implore you. 
Stay with John, look after him.' 

'Just a short time ago, that was what you were intent on doing.' 

'Just a short while perhaps, but the situation has changed and I see
things from a different angle. I feel now, I have no other course of 
action than to accompany him.' Veronica removed her hands from his 
shoulders and turned to go, her head down. Rothman grabbed her arm but 
she shrugged him off, not bearing to take one more look at John, not 
bearing to think about what the future held. 

*                          * 

Llewellyn kissed the blade as Veronica returned slowly towards him; his
dream had been reborn, like a phoenix rising from its ashes. His 
beloved Veronica was coming back to him, but she needed protecting from 
the evils that surrounded her. Nothing would touch them in their castle 
stronghold and were it ever to try, then his trusted weapon would 
deliver the ultimate response. He swung the sabre from right to left, 
felt it cutting through the wind and saw Veronica flinch. 

'Veronica, I did not mean -' 

'Thomas,' Veronica drew in as much air as she could, breathed out only
slowly, 'please drop that awful thing.' 

'I cannot trust the forces that surround you, my dear; it is for your
protection that I carry it.' Llewellyn kissed the blade. 'It will prove 
our staunchest ally, should they dare besiege us.' 

And yet a few short moments ago you would have killed me with it. 

'Then at least hold it at a distance from me.' Veronica Day closed her
eyes, returning to the castle with this man's final remnants of sanity 
disintegrating before her very eyes would be like entering the jaws of 
hell. 

But how great had her contribution been to this great character
metamorphosis? Should it be her fate now to endure life in the castle 
with a man devoid of all rationality? 

But she had thwarted the bloodbath; John would be safe. That was her
achievement and also her main concern. For soon the policemen must 
surely arrive - her despondency lay in the fact that she hadn't 
provided John with the ending she'd so desired, she'd failed him - but 
in so doing she'd failed Llewellyn also, because he'd trusted her and 
that trust she'd known from the start could never have been returned - 

'Why, Thomas, you are shivering.' Veronica touched his free hand. 'It is
only the rain that brings the chill; we shall soon be in the warm.' 

She felt his hand clamp around her wrist with all the strength of
someone without sanity, closed her eyes to the rain, and her mind to 
painful thought. 

*                             *                            * 

Chapter Thirty Eight 

'Where is this place - what's happened?' Gibbings flicked his eyes open,
searched around the room as he tried to raise himself and found the 
red-headed man standing over him, there was a pain in his neck that 
seared through his upper body. 

'Lay still,' the man standing over him insisted. 'You need rest.' 

Gibbings closed his eyes momentarily as a growing awareness overcame
him. 'Veronica,' he murmured, and then louder with more coherence, 
'where is she?  Is she safe?' 

His scrambled senses had recovered sufficiently for him to be able to
read Rothman's expression. 'What's happened to her, for God's sake?' 

Rothman's lips remained tight; Gibbings struggled to raise his back
against the iron bedstead, 'She's not -' 

'She went with Llewellyn,' Rothman said tiredly, biting his lip, wiping
a smear of blood and seeing Gibbings' look of horror he added, 'there 
was little I could do. It was her choice - and Llewellyn was 
brandishing the sabre...' 

'Saber? So she's in the hands of the mad man and we sit here like
useless gnomes - he's going to -' Gibbings struggled to leave the bed 
and the sound of straining strings brought Robertson from his study. 'I 
hardly think you should be exerting yourself, Mr. Gibbings, the doctor 
has said -' 

'Damn what the doctor said, we just can't stand by -' Gibbings narrowed
his eyes, stared at Rothman. 'What are you doing here anyway - I 
thought you'd -' 

'I came back -' Rothman interrupted moodily. 'Veronica has asked that I
watch over you and that is what I intend to do.' 

'Just who's looking after her?' 

'It certainly cannot be you; you are in no fit condition.' 

'Then why have you failed her?  Why have you returned?' 

'Enough of this talk.' Robertson pushed Rothman aside, adjusting
Gibbings' pillows.  'Lie down please; this is not serving Miss Day's 
interests. The policemen will soon be here, the matter is best left in 
their hands.' 

Rothman left the room, irritated beyond measure, what right did a mere
gardener have to question him? He hadn't foreseen Veronica doing this, 
had been appalled by what she'd done, but was powerless to prevent it. 

Rothman tapped his fingers impatiently on the window ledge, Robertson of
course was right. This sorry business was best left in the hands of the 
police, no matter how much the gardener might lay blame at his door. 
The problem was, the longer it took them, the greater Veronica's 
plight. Through the wind and rain that rattled the panes, the sound of 
wheels and trotting horses broke the air and Rothman's spirits rose 
just a little. 

*                        *                      * 

Veronica felt Llewellyn's free hand clasp hers, fought back the agony of
it and tried to keep her mind from contemplating an awful future inside 
the castle's bleak walls. But her time inside it must surely be short, 
the policemen would come to arrest Llewellyn and how would the prospect 
affect her conscience? 

Still, in the midst of her plight she struggled, she struggled with it -


'My life is complete my love. I have you and the castle and together we
will enjoy our lives as one -' 

'Yes, Thomas.' Veronica looked into Llewellyn's unseeing eyes, turned
her head away; they were heading along the coastal path towards the 
castle, and she watched the angry waves driving onto shore. 

Llewellyn had no grip on reality - every single strand had gone, as if
swept away by the storm. 

He was still talking, his voice high - pitched in its attempt to rise
above the wind, but she wasn't listening. She'd trained her thoughts on 
John Gibbings and whether she'd ever see him again. The castle was a 
fortress, there was no easy way to gain entry if that entry was denied 
- and denied it would be. There was little point in deluding herself. 

Approaching the castle slope Veronica took a look back but the panoramic
coastline was deserted, save for the gulls and turnstones, and 
something lying on the shoreline. Veronica narrowed her eyes, unable to 
determine what it was. 

Llewellyn's features were enveloped in a rigid smile as his unmoving,
unblinking eyes stared up at the castle shrouded in an unnatural 
afternoon darkness. 

It was a darkness that seeped through Veronica's bones, bearing down,
inevitably entombing her mind, forcing her towards Llewellyn's plane. 

Soon to be beyond help, but it was of her making. 

Thomas, allow me to walk out of this misery - set my conscience free,
that I might rejoin John - 

But she knew there was little point in her plea progressing any further
than her own mind. Llewellyn wasn't about to listen to anyone or 
anything.   And then, close to shore, at the foot of the castle 
approach, a sight that made her want to shield her eyes, though she 
couldn't - she gazed down anyway at the lifeless form of Dorothea, 
spread-eagled on the ground, dark curly hair tousled across her face, 
arms askew, eyes wide and unseeing staring upwards into the blanketed 
grey skies. 

'Thomas.' Veronica grabbed at his arm. 'Oh Thomas, we cannot leave her
there - whatever has happened, we cannot leave her like that -' 

'I will arrange for her disposal my dear. Do not distress yourself, I
implore you.' Llewellyn sniffed, raised his head towards the castle 
slope, raised his arms and spread them out. 'Ah, our castle, our 
wonderful haven awaits.' 

Veronica bit back tears; entering the castle hall now, the draught
seemed colder than she could recall. 

*                    * 

‘Officer, the man is mad, completely mad, and Veronica is at his mercy. 
You must act soon before she is -' 

'One thing at a time, Mr. Rothman.' The lean-faced Sergeant Taylor fixed
Rothman a severe stare. 'There is a man lying dead in the street.' 
Taylor drew up a chair, clasped his hands together, 'You have not fully 
explained your part in this -' 

'The thug of a butler had his hands on Veronica. Good God man, the
madman's henchman would have killed her. And as for Llewellyn, he is 
probably in his castle now, as mad as a hatter, with Veronica in 
peril.' 

Taylor fingered his chin. 'Mr.Gibbings has no recollection of what might
have transpired to cause the man's unfortunate demise. The Reverend 
Robertson saw nothing, in essence there is little hard evidence to 
substantiate your claim - and are you seriously expecting me to believe 
Miss Day simply "walked" into Mr. Llewellyn's arms?' 

Rothman placed his hands on Taylor's chair. 'I do not know what
possessed her to act in this manner, only that she is in danger, and 
that by delaying and asking pointless questions you are placing 
Veronica in even greater danger.' 

Taylor got to his feet, adjusted his tie and frowned. 'Very well Mr.
Rothman,' he said turning to his three officers standing in the hall. 
'But you are to remain in our custody until this unfortunate business 
is concluded.' 

'I am more than willing to accompany you to the castle if it means
helping to ensure Veronica's freedom.' 

'I said nothing about any such accompaniment,' Taylor said, beckoning
his officers and striding to the door. 'Nonetheless it is probably the 
simplest option.' 

Gibbings heard the slam of the vicarage door, puzzled for a moment at
the silence that hung over the place and realising what had occurred, 
struggled from his bed. 

*                       * 

Llewellyn locked and bolted the castle door, his back turned towards
her, the sabre tight in his hand; it was a chance she knew. She had 
strength, perhaps enough to fight her way out, and with it an element 
of surprise, and yet his insane mind might relish the contact, might 
actually be inviting it, and his frenzied reaction could then lead to 
tragic consequences either for her or for him - 

And it had been her choice to accompany him, born of the guilt that his
affliction might in some way be attributable to her - Shivering from 
the draught she turned, stepped away, abandoning any thought of 
confrontation. 

Llewellyn spun round. 'There my dear.' He clutched the key in his fist
and then slipped it into his pocket. 'We are safe within our fortress 
and nothing can harm us here.' 

'Then you can put the weapon down, Thomas. It is making me nervous, and
then perhaps you can light some fires.  It is a little cold in here -' 

'Yes, yes, I should put the sabre down.' He stared at the curved blade
with glazed eyes before returning his unseeing stare to her - 'And I 
will instruct Hambleton to prepare the fire -' 

Veronica grimaced. 'Thomas, Hambleton is no longer the butler; I fear
there is nobody in this place but us.' 

'Nobody?' Llewellyn's eyebrows arched as he spun round bewildered,
looked aimlessly around and then swung back clutching his forehead, 
'Mrs. Simms -' 

Veronica shook her head. 'Mrs. Simms left when Mr. Hambleton resigned.' 

Llewellyn blinked in rapid succession. 'There was another fellow - oh
yes, Dawson -' 

'Dawson is -' Veronica checked herself, 'Dawson is not here either -
there is only ourselves, as indeed you wished it to be, now please put 
that awful thing down and light the fires.' 

But Veronica needed only look into the unresponsive eyes to know there
would be no fires lit, no food cooked or served, and neither would he 
relinquish his hold on the  sabre - 

Llewellyn had his dream, but that was all it was. He was now faced with
the bare bones of reality. 


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